Part 2: When Grief Shows Up in Unexpected Ways
When Jon died, I truly believed I was handling things well. I stayed busy—teaching piano, homeschooling the kids, staying involved at church. I cried occasionally, but I didn’t allow myself to really feel. I told myself I was being strong, doing what needed to be done, moving forward the way I thought I was supposed to.
At the time, it felt like survival.
What I didn’t realize was that grief doesn’t stay buried forever. When it isn’t given space in our hearts, it often finds expression through our bodies.
For me, it began as anxiety. Fear crept into places it had never been before. A simple sneeze from one of my children could send my heart racing. A smoke detector chirping in the middle of the night left me wide awake and panicked. Late-night phone calls filled me with dread, my mind immediately jumping to the worst possible outcome.
Depression followed close behind. I withdrew—not because I wanted to, but because I was exhausted. Emotionally. Mentally. Physically. My body felt like it was constantly on high alert, stuck in fight-or-flight mode, and I didn’t know how to turn it off.
Looking back, I can see that my body was carrying the grief that my heart hadn’t yet come to terms with.
When grief is suppressed, it doesn’t disappear—it settles. It can show up in ways we don’t immediately connect to loss:
- chronic fatigue or frequent illness
- headaches, muscle tension, or unexplained pain
- anxiety, panic, or persistent fear
- depression or emotional numbness
- digestive issues or appetite changes
- difficulty concentrating or remembering
Our bodies were never designed to carry unprocessed sorrow indefinitely. Grief needs a voice. It needs acknowledgment. It needs compassion.
For a long time, I didn’t recognize what was happening. I thought something was wrong with me—that I was failing somehow. But the truth was much simpler and much kinder: my body was responding to years of unprocessed grief.
Eventually, everything caught up with me. I reached a point where I knew I couldn’t keep living this way. I was worn down, fearful, and overwhelmed—and that’s where God met me. Not with condemnation, but with invitation.
Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). Not answers to every question. Not a quick fix. Rest.
Healing didn’t happen all at once. It began with awareness—paying attention to what my body and emotions were trying to tell me. It continued as I slowly allowed myself to acknowledge the grief I had pushed aside for so long. Naming it. Sitting with it. Letting God meet me there.
If you’re noticing signs of exhaustion, anxiety, or heaviness that you can’t quite explain, it may be worth gently asking yourself what your heart has been carrying. Not with judgment—but with curiosity and grace.
Grief doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’ve loved deeply. And when you begin to listen to what your body and soul are asking for, healing can finally begin to take root.
In the next post, I’ll share what it looked like to finally face my grief—and how, even though the process was painful, it also brought peace and restoration I didn’t think was possible.
30 SCRIPTURE CARDS FOR GRIEF. If you know someone these might encourage, I would be honored if you’d share these resources—and my blog—with them.
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